The Rest is Silence
by Sorrow in Shadow
Summary: Hermione Granger responds to a call, a call that she alone could hear but did not know. Finding herself with a magical item haunted by a vengeful spirit, what can she do to help the ghost who once owned it? And will this quest bring her and Harry closer?
1. The Find

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I unfortunately don't have anything to do with the plot of J.K. Rowling's books.

Warning: There are certain spoilers if you can find them.

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The Rest is Silence

Chapter One – The Find

Hermione Granger sat on her red-trimmed bed in the girl's dormitory, looking out the rain-stained window at the Hogwart's Grounds. A morose, sorrowful atmosphere surrounded the huge castle of a school this day, and Hermione couldn't concentrate on her studies. She was too depressed. There was, funny enough, nothing notable to be upset about. Sometimes the mood just acted like a storm cloud above her head, following her every step and making the day gloomier and gloomier. This was one of those times, and Hermione Granger found herself with little pity even for the Quidditch players who had practice today.

There was nothing in particular to do, since she couldn't study, so Hermione found herself itching to explore the castle's interior. She had on several occasions, with Ron and Harry, gone on crusades to conquer the unknown corridors and secret rooms of her vast school, but never had she gone alone. She needed time to think, anyhow. Not about school and books, but about her friends and life ambitions. Sometimes she blocked her emotional side off for so long that she tended to forget how she felt about certain people. She wanted to remember.

Setting aside her books, Hermione donned her Hogwarts cloak and stuck her wand in its pocket. Adjusting her robes, she looked in the mirror and cocked her head at the bushy brown hair that surrounded her head and the set expression of loneliness on her face. Frowning, Hermione brushed fervently at the bushy mess before shrugging it off with a painful wince and heading down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room.

There was, much to her delight, no one there, so her excavation of the school could take place without any additional adventurers. A senile smile forming her lips, Hermione rushed out past the portrait and took a deep breath of the musty air that lurked in the Seventh Floor corridor. The smell of books filled her nostrils, and for a minute she was tempted to return to the common room and curl up with a few books by the fire. Shaking the thought from her head, Hermione ran her tongue along her now perfectly even teeth and enjoyed the tickling sensation of gratification that it gave her.

She felt oddly and suddenly free, wandering around Hogwarts without Harry or Ron dogging her every step; or her dogging theirs as it often was. There was no particular mission at hand, and Hermione sighed with pleasure as she walked casually along the hallways, searching for nothing and loving it. Maybe she would gather some secrets of her own.

As she meandered through the many passages she, Harry, and Ron had once traveled, Hermione thought of the many adventures the three had embarked upon. _Harry... always the brave one. I have never stopped admiring him for it..._ Hermione thought fondly. She was not one to deny the facts of her emotions, if she could ever figure them out. _And Ron, of course. He was brave too, but more so reckless. Even that helped everyone._ She felt a laugh coming on and stifled it with minute effort.

_But what of me? The brains? The clever one? Logic, that's all I am. The book worm. But do I like it that way? It helps me, I won't pretend it doesn't. And lord knows it helps Harry._ Frowning slightly as she continued on her walk, Hermione rather forgot to watch where she was going. Not that she minded; thinking was important. _Harry. What of Harry? The famous Boy Who Lived, the Renowned Harry Potter, why, I could almost say Voldemort's Bane. I'm sure I'll be able to in short time... Harry has it in him to win. He could beat... no; he **will** beat Lord Voldemort. Funny how using his actual name doesn't frighten me anymore... It did before I met Harry._

And the Order... The Order of the Phoenix. Maybe I'll be able to help them, too, before this is all over. Everyone says I'm going somewhere, but do I know where? Maybe I'll teach, maybe I'll become an Auror, like Mad-Eye. Or, perhaps, I'll just devote my time and self to The Order. After Padfoot... well... I should think he'd like something done that he himself couldn't do. I know it's Harry's place, since Sirius was Harry's godfather, but I can help too. Harry has his hands full with Voldemort himself; the least I can do is take over for Sirius. He was my friend too. Harry... Why am I suddenly thinking so much about Harry? It's not as if he were my lover or anything... or anything...

Hermione broke out of her reverie and looked about her. She was in a strange, unfamiliar corridor. The floor was covered in dust, the walls covered in tattered tapestries and moldy, dimly lit torches. There were no windows, and Hermione felt her nerves build as she searched this unknown place with a wary eye. At last she spotted a red door that had long ago been decorated in gold trim and silver lining. The old, rusted doorknob seemed to call her name, and as she timidly extended her hand to grasp it, excitement ran vibrantly through her veins.

With the creaking turn of the old knob, she slipped through the parted doorway and into a gloomy, gray room. Couches and plush chairs were covered in cobwebs and dust, and the mosaic windows that let in a little bit of light were cracked and broken. Rainbows wavered on the spider-infested tables and the old crumbling statues that refused to lose their expressions of joy. There was little joy in Hogwarts anymore, though. A few aged bookcases filled with moldy, musty books stood cramped into corners and pushed against stone walls. This place hadn't been used in a long while. A golden pedestal sat in a corner, a large, untouched box laying on it.

Curiosity brimming, Hermione made her way carefully over the fragments of broken glass and crumpled stone towards the untouched golden pedestal. A single shower of golden light poured from a hole in the ceiling, a hole that led to nowhere. In a state of complete awe, though making sure to keep her mouth closed for all the dust that floated through the room, Hermione placed her delicate hands on the golden box's lid and gently jerked it upwards.

Inside the box, sitting regally on a pillow of black velvet, was a ring. It was a nine-sided, blue gem mounted in a gold base on a plain, half-inch gold band. Inside the band was a string of letters, with Ze'ev the only legible word. Immersed with wonder by her find, Hermione's soft brown eyes reflected the golden treasure. As soon as she slid the ring onto her finger, however, the lid of the box snapped shut and the golden light flowing in from the ceiling sealed off.

Perplexed, Hermione tried to pry the ring off her nimble fingers. _Maybe I should just put it back... I can bring Harry down here with me and then we can figure this place out for ourselves later._ But her thoughts were in vain, for the ring refused to budge. Suddenly, the blue gem began to sparkle, each of its nine sides glowing in turn with a vibrant blue light. Hermione dropped her tugging hand and watched the dazzling gem, mesmerized.

"Or maybe I'll just leave it there... and show him later," Hermione whispered aloud, turning to the now seemingly large but dusty red door. What she saw before her made her shriek and fall to the floor, backing away along the dusty stone and screaming her head off. Never before had she been so startled, never before had she felt such terror.

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(A/N: Well... first chapter up. Please read and review, I'd appreciate it!)


	2. Ze'ev

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, even though I wish I did.

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The Rest is Silence

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Chapter Two – Ze'ev and Blanloden

Hermione crouched against an old, plush, weather-beaten chair, her hands covering her face as she shook from head to toes. The ring glinted without a helping light source, and the pale, ridged figure before her grimaced. "So you found my ring," it said in a single, sorrowful tone. Hermione dared to peek beyond her outstretched fingers. Among her skills, and probably the most proficient of them, was her talent at observation. Such eyes had she, this sixteen-year-old girl, that she could easily land a job in one of New York's finest detective agencies.

At first glance, Hermione was able to see that the figure had no feet, and was presented in a robe of rags to match the rest of the room's woe-be-gone appearance. The hem was razed, and no feet poked through the tattered material. Hermione's first thought was that this apparent ghost was once a Hogwarts student. This was no matter; she had dealt with Hogwart's ghosts before.

Upon risking another glimpse, however, Hermione noted the long, pointed ears that ensued from the figure's shoulder-length, wavy hair, and the thin metallic band that circled the person's head. A pair of large gray eyes looked down at her past a long face and small, softly pointed nose, even though she could only see one of them in her current position. It was then that she decided to take a closer look at the robes that shrouded the person. They were rimmed in what must've been fanciful material, and the collar wrapped highly around the neck like a silken scarf, branching out below the cheekbones in a web-like design. The sleeves were obviously much longer than their wearer's arms, and they dipped low in the same style as a Chinese Wise Man's would.

All this Hermione took into account, and she wisely determined that the man before her had not been a student at Hogwarts many years ago, but seemed, in perspective, to have come from another world. Brushing a hand against the woolly brown hair that topped her head, Hermione stood up slowly and felt herself gulp. "Y...yes, I have," she responded uncertainly.

To her surprise, the ghost shook his head in agreement and cast a fond glance in the ring's direction. "I suppose you know what that means," he said in a deep, bass voice that was oddly melodic yet mystifying at the same time.

Horrid thoughts filled her mind. What did it mean? That he had to kill her? That she had somehow committed to something uncalled for? "I'm afraid I don't," Hermione replied, her insides turning and her stomach having second thoughts on lunch. She tried, as casually as she could, to slip both hands into her pockets without seeming dangerous. She gripped her wand tightly on one of her sweating hands and balled the other into a fist to make the bulges on each side even.

"You don't, you say?" the ghost asked, his bloodstained eyebrows raised, and Hermione realized why she had been so terrified. The male's sad face was lined with streams of blood, and one of his eyes was gorged out. She shuddered and shook her head, her mouth going dry and refusing to utter the simple word "no".

"Well then," the ghost muttered dryly, glaring enviously at the chair to one side of where he floated then fixing a hard stare upon Hermione again. "I suppose I should tell you." He gestured for her to take a seat and Hermione, being the ever-resourceful thinker, politely refused. Upon her noncompliance the ghost shrugged his veiled shoulders and bowed his head in respect. "I am Ze'ev Nul'nier. Ghost, yes, but an unreleased spirit. That ring, the one stuck on your finger, was once mine. It is actually extremely old, dating back to, let's say, a few thousand years."

Hermione brought her hand out of her pocket and examined the ring on her middle finger. So this piece of jewelry was over a thousand years old. There wasn't a scratch on the polished band of gold, not a single scratch. 

"Yes," Ze'ev hung his head slightly. "That majesty of a jewel was once mine." His working eye held a look of longing desperation that even his current status as a ghost could not hide. "It has magical properties, you know," Ze'ev continued, twiddling his thumbs apparently from the bunches of moving fabric on his sleeves. "It enhances your beauty and gives you confidence and bravery where and when you need such help. But," he said in a dark tone. "It gives you restless nights and chaotic dreams... So, beware, young girl, if you are to be Blanloden's Bane and help the heir of Nul'nier to return to the afterlife where the rest of his family courageously journeyed."

Hermione raised a brown brow in perplexity. "Who is Blanloden? And what am I to help you with?" Even Hermione Granger could no resist the tempting offer of a quest. Besides, if the experience made her more beautiful and helped her self-esteem, then what could a few restless nights mean?

Even for a ghost, it was evident that Ze'ev could hide. "He is the guardian of that ring, you shall find out in time. Once you sleep, your quest shall become apparent. You must promise me one thing though, and tell me something of yourself," Ze'ev looked hopefully at her, and Hermione felt her insides swell with pity.

"I'll help in any way I can," she said, casting a reassuring smile in the lonely ghost's direction.

"Come talk to me once in a while. I need company. And who are you, child? What is your name?"

"I am Hermione Granger, and I shall come visit you, worry not old spirit." Another smile broadened her lips and she fingered the ring absentmindedly. Hermione loved an adventure; that was for sure. This one was her own, and she didn't have to share it with anyone... well, maybe Harry. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, and as she turned to go, she realized that she didn't know how to get back to the Gryffindor Tower.

The ghost of Ze'ev seemed to sense her hesitation, and his face, even contorted as it was by the rivers of dried blood that masked it, held a certain compassion to it. "Just follow your instincts," he murmured happily, watching as she nodded her head and left the room by which means she came. 

Dark pictures shuffled and armor shimmered in the last light of day. Hermione fingered her ring, thinking fondly about the beautiful gem that was now in her possession. Eventually she made her way back to the Gryffindor Tower, without knowing it, and walked into the common room.

"Hermione! Thank Merlin you're here!" Ron said, standing up excitedly. Harry groaned and looked up from his cramped position. He had been leaning over the table and scribbling nonsense on parchment. Hermione raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot out of habit. 

"What is it, Ron?" she asked politely, her tone terse and short. Ron's expression of relief faded slightly, but her persisted.

"You know, history exam tomorrow, and... Well..." he stuttered, looking from side to side nervously. He had practiced this.

"You want me to help you study?" she finished in his place. Ron beamed and walked over to her, giving her a slap on the back. He was much taller than she'd ever be, and Hermione found herself looking up at him with narrowed eyes. 

"I knew you'd understand!" Ron's beam brightened as he went back to the table and started to explain what he and Harry needed. Harry's glasses reflected Hermione's hand, and he gave her an odd look.

"Where did you get that ring?" he asked suddenly, interrupting Ron in the middle of his best friend's speech, explaining why they had been slacking off in a glamorous manner. Hermione just considered them lazy and that was that. When Harry asked about her ring, however, Hermione felt a lump grow in her throat. She wanted to tell him, but not with Ron there. Not that she didn't trust Ron, but there was something warning her to only explain this to one person. 

"Gift. From my mother," she lied, swallowing her uneasiness and bending back down over her notes once more as Ron started to talk again. But Harry still glanced at the ring from time to time. The blue stone shimmered where there was no light, and Harry didn't like it one bit.

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(AN: I'm sorry it took so long! I've been immensely preoccupied.)


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